


London Boy

by alwayspml



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Lawyer Dan Howell, London, M/M, Photography, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Writer Phil Lester, YouTube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-02 15:44:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21164114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayspml/pseuds/alwayspml
Summary: Phil's a journalist for a Manchester newspaper. Dan's a big city lawyer trying to find his purpose.





	1. Chapter 1

"Lester!"

The shrill, posh accent awakens Phil from his dog-centered daydream.

"Y-yes ma'am?" He asks nervously, scanning the room trying to regain his surroundings. A large, oblong table sat underneath his arms with several of his coworkers surrounding. A work meeting. PJ is sat next to him, ball cap resting atop his curls. He's doodling some kind of elephant-fish crossbreed on his notepad instead of writing _actual_ notes like he should be. This is typical behavior of him during these meetings. He turns to his right to face the blue-eyes that somehow match the sharpness and the deafening tone of his boss's voice.

"I asked if you had any specific story ideas that could go into the upcoming papers?" Her arms tightly cross over her lanky but pronounced chest. 

Mrs. Clark is pretty much the exact illustration of the stereotypical, big headed, boss lady. She's very snappy, angry all the time, and just lets the power go through her head underneath that blonde top knot. Sometimes, Phil wonders if she ties her bun too tight.

But he'd never admit that out loud.

"I..." Phil begins trailing off, refusing to make eye contact with his superior. His recent low work ethic is no secret to anyone in the room. Hell anyone in the entire _workplace_ is aware that Phil's performance has been slacking so much more than usual. He's usually always at the top of his game, a story always on his mind, always the first to volunteer for an interview, and he is pretty well-known for all the witty headlines he can think up on the spot. Even for stories he's not responsible for. 

But now... now he feels more distracted. Not just from work, from everything. The breakup was hard on him, as any end to any long term relationship might be for anybody. 

Well, maybe not to Dallas.

"I didn't think so." Mrs. Clark's condescending voice sends a pang through Phil's chest as he winces at her tone. "Well, does anyone have any type of story in mind? We can't be using filler for the entire month!" Mrs. Clark continues. Silence fills the room. It's deafening.

Mrs. Clark shuts her eyes tightly and inhales a deep, exasperated breath, "very well," she says softly, "on your way then." With these last four words, every journalist, photographer, and editor can't escape quickly enough. Phil looks at the digital clock on the back side of the room, resting on a counter between a coffee machine on the right, and a (very obviously) fake plant. 14:11. Lunch time. Phil's favorite part of the day. 

He and PJ are going to their favorite sushi place, to 'discuss some stories', which they both know is definitely not going to happen. They'll be too busy gawking at their favorite shows, maybe criticizing the _Game Of Thrones_ finale. 

Just as Phil is on PJ's tail, about to walk through the glass door back to his desk, he's stopped by a voice "Mr. Lester, may I have a word?" She asks sternly.

Phil stops in his track, slowly turning his glance towards her, his heart nearly about to pump out of his chest. He swallows, closing the door and shifting back in the conference room, "Yes, Mrs. Clark, how can I help you?" he's awkwardly fidgeting with his hands, not sure what to do with them exactly. This is something that happens when his anxiety gets super bad. Which, unfortunately, has been happening a lot more recently.

"Philip," She begins, leaning her backside against the counter on the other side of the room, this one empty. Her hands grip the edge of the counter loosely as she looks down to her shoes. Phil's eyes follow, she's wearing black ones with the slightest pump at the bottom. "You have been working here for quite some time now, haven't you?" He moves his gaze towards her. She's looking at him now, her stone cold eyes meeting his dim cobalt ones. They used to be so bright and full of energy. Now, they just seemed to be dull, sort of like how he feels.

"Yeah... three years next August." He says starting to shift his feet now, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. 

"Right," She crosses her ankles, "and since I can remember, you have been one of the most optimistic, hard working, journalists I've seen! But lately, you've been very, very lacking in your work ethic."

Phil just nods. It's all he can feel to do. She’s not wrong at all. “Listen, Philip,-" she begins, "I don't be the one to have to say this."

Phil takes a deep breath. He knows exactly what's coming next. He regains his focus towards his boss.

"The bottom line is, if you don't up your performance even a little bit, you're gone. Sacked. Fired-"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it." He stops her with a sigh. If he's being completely honest, he didn't expect a warning. He was expecting to have to go pack up his desk right now. Maybe Kamra is on his good side today.

Mrs. Clark lets out an apologetic sigh, "Look, I know you have had a lot of recent... personal altercations. But you cannot let that impact your work performance. You bring life into this dull hole. But ever since that bloke left you, you've lost it! The bright energy reflected in your eyes is gone!"

She's not wrong about that last part. Everyone's been saying that the past month and a half. PJ, his mother, even the old lady who lives in his apartment complex. Anyone can see it 

This is, however, no excuse for Mrs. Clark to unnecessarily bring up his personal life.

"I really appreciate your concern Mrs. Clark, but I'm gonna have to ask you to not associate my personal life with my work life." He says with a slight snarl in his voice, regretting it instantly. He’s never one to counter anyone with such attitude. Especially to someone his elder and with much more superiority to their name.

But the mention of Dallas is an automatic way to get a reaction like this out of him. No matter the person.

"Then you're going to have to start differentiating the two."

Phil nods with a sigh. As much as he hates to admit it, she is right. Maybe this is the wake up call he needs to get his life together. He didn't go to university for four years, get a great job he actually loves with decent pay, just to get fired less that three years later because of some boy Phil thought loved him.

He has too much self respect for that.

Phil is about to ask his boss if there's anything else she needs from him, before she speaks first.

"Besides," she walks towards the glass door and grabs the handle, "I'd hate to lose my best journalist." She says with an actual ounce of smile in her lips.

Phil returns the smile and nods, "of course ma'am. I'll improve." He takes a shaky breath, "I promise."

The older woman nods in response, "very well then." She opens the door and motions him out, "off you go, lad."

Phil slowly makes his way out the door, making his journey back to his cubicle, Mrs. Clark following behind, before disbanding towards her office.

Once Phil is at his cubicle, he begins gathering his on-the-go essentials, carrying them in a satchel which he slings over his shoulder. This bag includes his keys and office ID on an _Adventure Time_ lanyard, his wallet (for obvious reasons), laptop and/or notebook in case he finds an interesting story out in public to write about, headphones, spare chargers for his laptop and phone, and various other miscellaneous things so that he's prepared for almost anything. 

He gets a little startled when he sees PJ leaning over his cubicle. "Hey," He greets him.

"Hey. So what did _Gina_ have to talk to you about?" PJ asks, putting a nasty emphasis on her name.

Phil quickly looks around. Mrs. Gina Clark would definitely have his head if she heard him talking about her with such informality. She's not nearby. Thankfully. 

"Oh just the expected. If I don't up my work game I'll be sacked." Phil states casually with a shrug. "You ready to go?"

PJ nods in response, releasing his hold on the cork wall encasing Phil’s cubicle. It’s covered in random news stories (some he has written, some not), polaroids of him and friends, and even some fun comics. His desk is a perfect reflection of Phil's lovely personality. 

“Wait- before we go,” PJ puts his hands in his pockets and asks, “did she use any mention of The D-word’?”

Phil just chuckles and nods. “Yup, she sure did.”

PJ scoffs, “damn that bitch,” and tosses a coin into the plastic cup filled with coins on the corner of his desk. PJ and Phil call this the ‘Dallas Cup’ after Phil and Dallas broke up. It got talked about all over the office that it just became an annoyance. So, they decided that if anyone brought it up to Phil, they’d put a coin of any kind. The rules are - they can’t mention his name, or else the opposing player (whom didn’t say the D-word), takes a coin of his choosing. 

It’s a rather fun game they come up with, and is another great example of why their friendship works so well. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” PJ says after tossing the coin and, walking with Phil to the elevators, heading to their lunch date. 

*  
Late that night, Phil was in bed on his laptop, putting in more effort into this job than he has this past month and a half. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as his computer screen illuminates a bright blue light on his face. He's got a cup of coffee on his night table, and a bowl of popcorn on the other side of the bed, keeping him awake during his late night scouring.

He's looking through article, after article trying to find a decent enough story that could work well enough for Mrs. Clark.

The company he works for is a rather large (though not as large as the BBC of course) news source that has several different locations scattered around England. Phil works in the Manchester department, writing stories that mainly partake around the area. They write stories about why the goose population is declining near the lakes, or why The University of Cambridge is the best school for law (one of Phil's personal favorites he's written). They also touch on political and economical nonsense that happens around the country, which is Phil's least favorite. He finds it so boring and says "Only old people care about political bull crap."

Phil’s worked there for several years, yet still doesn’t know exactly how to explain it. All he knows is that he writes stories, and he writes stories well.

Phil is also one of the traveling journalists, meaning he travels throughout the country a lot. He even went to Paris once to get a 'news-breaking story on the Louvre' or something. Must not have been that interesting though, as Phil can't seem to remember a thing about it. He didn't know why Gina trusted him so much so do a story that big in a whole different country. Maybe she wasn't lying when she said Phil was her best journalist.

PJ is his photographer for all his stories. They've been together pretty much ever since Phil started working there. Phil had one project with a previous photographer, Jade, until she left to pursue bigger opportunities. They didn't know each other that well, but all he knew is that she was super nice, and a damn good photographer. When she left, Phil got assigned a transfer from the Brighton location named PJ. 

Now, almost three years later, he couldn't imagine anyone taking his place as Phil's partner in crime. 

Phil can feel himself drifting off as he leans against the headboard, thumping the back of his head. He mutters a swear rubbing the back of his head, as he leans forward, turning his attention back to his screen. 

He removes his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes and groans. He feels the tiredness flow through him, the feeling getting stronger with every word he tries to read. He grabs his mug to take a sip of coffee, only to realize it's empty 4 seconds later.

He's been known to burn the candle at both ends when it comes to something he's passionate about. It's an unhealthy habit really, but he told himself he wouldn't sleep until he found a story, maybe two. 

He's been scrolling for what feels like hours. He turns his gaze to see the clock in the top right corner of the screen. 02:41 AM. He hasn't even had a shower yet. 

He loves his job so much, and would hate to lose it, but he's starting to think his mental health might be a priority at this point. 

He shakes his head. Nah, he'll just have three extra cups of coffee in the morning. It'll be fine. 

The mouse cursor is found hovering over some link. '_**London man found dead...**_' Phil cringes and scoffs at the headline. That is another thing he refuses to write about.

London. 

He hates the city with a passion. He's only been twice when he was younger, and refuses to go back. It's all terrible. The traffic, the smog, the people. Everything is too crowded and the lines to everything are so long. 

He never understood the hype about this 'magnificent' city. Why do so many people love the city so much? Why there when there's plenty of other cities in the country. Manchester, Brighton, Leeds...

Then it hits him, "of course!" he says out loud quickly closing out of his three current tabs and opening the notes app on his mac typing out-

'**_Why London Is One Of The Fastest Growing Cities In England_**'

*

"See! The statistics are solid! It's a completely rational report." Phil says eagerly motioning towards his computer screen.

Phil had been so excited to introduce this new story idea to his boss all morning. Of course, he had to do all the research the entirety of the morning before his lunch break. He couldn't wait to tell Mrs. Clark he was able to rack up a story in the late hours of the night. He hopes he can catch even a sliver of a smile on her wrinkled lips.

Mrs. Clark is taking her time, reading through Phil's notes he took and numbers he wrote down. He can tell she's taking her time examining every word typed down. She adjusts her glasses, and pulls her head away, continuing her focus to filing the papers she was fiddling with hen he walked in. She's silent for a moment, the nerves in Phil's body trembling at a high speed. His hands twitch as she closes the folder containing the papers she was just straightening. He's itching for a response of any kind.

Just before he's about to ask what she thinks, she opens her mouth and says, "very well, Lester. I think it could work." She doesn't turn her gaze towards him. She folds her hands on her desk, staying quiet for a moment.

There's a few seconds of silence following her statement. Phil is just about to excuse himself, before she stops him.

"I imagine it'll require some interviews of young people in the city. So I shall arrange that within the next few days." She says to him, although it seems more for her than him.

She holds a finger up to Phil, indicating him to stay put momentarily (though, he doesn't think he could move if he tried) as she turns to her computer, typing away furiously.

Phil feels his fingers start to fidget and squirm uncontrollably. He laces his own hands together and clears his throat.

Mrs. Clark starts typing, and looks to him with an icy stare. She gives him a good look that could kill, before turning back to her computer. That's the first time she's looked at him since he walked through the doors of the building this morning.

He looks down to his feet, feeling the pang of embarrassment flow through his body. It seems like he's been standing here for hours.

"Okay," Mrs. Clark finally says, "I can get a train out to London this Friday, and leave the following Friday evening. A week should be plenty of time, don't you think?" She leans back in her chair, eyebrows raised, as if asking his approval.

He doesn't know why it should matter to him. It's not like he's the one going.

Phil just shrugs nonchalantly, "yeah, sounds fine."

"Excellent! I shall expect you and Liguori off by Friday Morning."

Phil freezes in his spot, feeling a regretful question on the tip of his tongue, "w-wait... I'm going?"

Mrs. Clark looks at him like he'd asked the stupidest question on the planet, "well yes, lad. I would expect you to travel and write your article... yes?" She asks in a condescending tone.

He guesses he didn't totally think through this. Actually going to London? A big, fat, no.

He almost refuses, before painfully realizing he is almost about to lose a job. Refusing a business operation right as he has an idea? Yeah that'd look great on his resume

He screws his eyes shut, giving a nervous laugh, "yes of course. How stupid of me." He takes a breath and calms himself down, "is there anything else you need?"

She turns her full attention back to her computer, "just tell Ligouri to pack his shit."

Phil turns red and feels himself heat up at her use of foul language in the office. Very unprofessional.

She looks at him with a questioned face, "off you go then."

Phil just nods, grabbing his computer, and finally making his way out of her office, taking a breath of fresh air as he does.

The tension in there was way too thick.

He takes slow steps back to his cubicle. He hugs his laptop against his chest gently, his brain a hurricane full of thoughts.

London.

He hadn't been to London since he was 11. 15 years is a long time.

Too long.

The thing with Phil and London, isn't just the fact that it's a roaring city filled with rude people. He also has some personal hatred towards the city.

His father and brother had taken a train to London the night they died.

Phil tightens the grip on his laptop as he recounts the memory.

Lights. Smoke. Fire. Too many people.

His breath hitches as he almost trips on his own feet. He curses himself under his breath for being so clumsy.

The thought of the memory is enough to give him a panic attack.

He knows it's not fair to the city that the train derailed late that evening, causing 6 deaths and 11 injuries. 2 of those six just had to be Phil's own family.

He always blames himself for the incident. It happened the same day Phil told his family he was gay.

That day in June was such a traumatic moment in Phil's life. He was only 14.

The story, to put it sweetly, is that Phil told his parents and his brother he was gay, everyone (to his surprise) was super supportive and happy for him, Martyn and his dad went to tour a university the former was considering in London, and that was the last time Phil saw them.

He tells himself it was God's punishment for being the way he is. His family's reaction was too positive, so something had to happen.

Something tragic.

Phil has never been to London since. He simply refuses.

Not only does he hate everything about the city, he's scared. Especially since he's going to be taking a train. Of all modes of transportation. A fucking train.

But, Phil does always put his work before everything else.

Even his own personal beliefs.

So he'll take that train to London Friday, stay for a dreadful week, come back and continue his life.

At least PJ will be with him.

"Phil?" Speak of the devil.

Phil finds himself stood on the corner of PJ's cubicle, just slightly diagonal from his own. Phil takes a quick glance at PJ's computer. He's editing a photo he took of a police officer and young woman to go with a story someone is probably writing at this very moment. He's got his headphones on, most likely listening to music or a podcast as he works (as does anyone in the office when occupied with work), but one is plucked out of his ear as he's looking up to Phil. "Is something wrong? Are you alright." Oh right, he forgot to answer.

Phil takes a gulp, as if saying this out loud is totally unbelievable to him. He feels the croak in his voice.

"We're going to London."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so this is my first 'real' story on here.  
so to be fair, i have no idea what i'm doing, but lets just jump into it  
~J xx


	2. Chapter 2

Phil couldn't help but feel his knees bounce at a rapid pace as he stares out the window of the moving train. To say he's nervous is an understatement.

"Relax, Phil. Did you take a Dramamine?" PJ asks, looking up from his computer. Phil nods in response, not taking his eyes from the window. "And a Prozac?" Phil nods again, chewing on his finger-tip nervously.

PJ waits a few seconds before saying anything else, "do they seem to be working?" PJ seems to already know the answer to this based on his tone.

Phil is silent for a spell, before shifting his eyes and shakes his head.

Phil is so grateful to have a friend like PJ, always checking up on him. His best friend does that often. He knows of Phil's different conditions (motion sickness, anxiety, etc.) and just wants to make sure he's totally content. But sometimes, Phil feels, it can be a bit over-bearing.

PJ nods in understanding, slowly closing his laptop. "Phil, when was the last time you rode a train?" He asks in a thoughtful tone.

"Are you interrogating me or something? What's with all the bloody questions?" Phil asks, snapping his face towards PJ, tension smothering his face and voice.

PJ looks at Phil, eyebrows raised, as if he's shocked at the reaction, but not too shocked. It's not totally unlike Phil to snap under pressure like this, it's just a rare occurrence, mainly when he's feeling a little too anxious.

The medication he took before the train definitely has an affect.

"S-sorry.. didn't mean to shout." Phil says apologetically, looking down to his lap. It was barely a shout, though. If anything, Phil just barely raised his voice above the normal speaking level. He looks back up to PJ, "the last time I took a train, I was 13. We went down to visit my grandparents in Reading."

"I know you have a fear of trains, and, I must say, the dedication you have for this job that you would encounter one of your biggest fears, it's incredible." PJ beams genuinely, a large grin stretching his lips.

Phil give a small smirk at the confidence boost, "thanks," he mumbles.

"Though, I don't think I've seen you more nervous than this moment. Not even when you interviewed that Bake Off lady-"

"Louise."

"- and just had a total fanboy moment."

Phil smiles, blushing deeply at the memory. It was a magical experience for him, seeing one of the winners of one of his favorite shows before him, asking her several questions that genuinely intrigued him, not just ones he know would look good in the paper.

"So, can I ask, why do you have a fear of trains?" PJ asks, folding his hands, resting his chin on them.

He tenses at the question. He'd never told PJ about his brother and father's train-related death. Not that he never wanted to, it just... never came up in conversation.

Well, maybe it has actually. It isn't exactly his favorite thing to talk about.

He'll tell PJ someday. It's kind of a big deal now that he thinks about it. A big fact about him.

But not now. Definitely not now.

He hopes PJ understands.

"I'd rather not talk about it now."

*

The train ride is a grueling 3 hour journey, as PJ described.

"You left me all alone to sleep you wanker." PJ complained to Phil as they got off, a groggy Phil not paying him much attention.

Can anyone blame him though? Dramamine and Prozac are both drowsy-induced medication. Plus, it didn't help that Phil had some classical music playing softly in his ears (it helps calm him). It just helped him instantly fall through to sleep.

At least he didn't get motion sick all over PJ.

They double check and make sure they have all their belongings, proceeding to make their way through the station.

"So where to first, Lester?" PJ asks, admiring the city in all its glory.

"Coffee." Phil demands.

PJ just lets out a laugh, "actually, I was thinking we find our hotel and drop our things off first, yeah?"

Phil groans in annoyance, before looking down at his belongings. Red suitcase packed to the brim, and his satchel, which suddenly feels a lot heavier since he left the Manchester station. He realizes then, that unloading might actually be a good idea. 

The two men begin walking the direction they came, before they realize something. 

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" PJ asks, turning around to Phil, an arched eyebrow on his forehead. 

Phil thinks for a moment, then shakes his head, "no, I thought you did?"

They let out a collective annoyed sigh, then laugh together at their conjoined stupidity.

"You and I, my friend, are two halves of a whole idiot." PJ states, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, presumably to check an email Gina probably sent out, letting them know where they will be staying. 

Phil rolls his eyes at PJ's comment, wanting to be annoyed, but his smile conveys the total opposite, "Just shut up and tell me where we're going."

The boys conclude that their hotel is only a few blocks from the station they arrived in. A few blocks south, the exact opposite direction they were travelling originally. They laugh once again at their idiocy, going the correct direction. 

The buildings in London are stood next to each other rather tightly. Phil isn't sure if it's because of the 'city aesthetic' or the 'historical culture' it illustrates. Either way, he concludes, it's hideous. 

Phil isn't admiring the architecture, and cultural aspects of the famous city as PJ is. Then again, he's never been the artsy or creative type. Not nearly as much as PJ is. 

PJ's camera finds itself around his neck almost immediately after they get off the train. It's PJ's personal camera, Phil notes. PJ owns two cameras (that Phil knows of), one for work, and one for his personal use. It's crazy, Phil thinks, how two people can have such different passions, yet two that work so well together. Phil could never find himself sat behind a camera trying to find the perfect angle in several different positions and actually finding enjoyment out of it. Then again, PJ would probably say the same about sitting behind a computer screen, writing whatever flows from his mind, onto paper. 

Though actually having free time is pretty rare, that's how he spends most of the time he's not working. Writing films, books, TV shows, anything. He has hundreds of pages of unfinished drafts in his notes app filled with film plots, television pilots, book scenes that could be totally epic, given the right context. 

His one problem though: he's never finished one of these. He's tried. He's tried really hard, believe it or not. He just... loses interest. Maybe one day, he can actually complete a work and become a famous author or screenwriter with an award winning piece of art. 

In another universe. Maybe. 

Phil groans loudly as PJ stops, crouched in front of a squirrel. This is the third time he's stopped to capture something, and as supportive as he is of his friend, it's safe to say, he's getting a little pissed. 

"We have squirrels in Manchester you know?" Phil asks, leaning against a tree, crossing his arms tightly. 

"Shh." 

The squirrel perks up at the sudden noise, then runs off quickly, before PJ can photograph it. He sighs in annoyance, standing up, "thanks, Philip, you scared him off." He walks towards Phil, wiping his camera lens and slips the lens cap on. 

Phil responds with a scoff and eye roll, "can we go now? I need coffee in my system if you want me to play nice."

They continue to make their way towards the hotel, PJ managing to only stop once to photograph a mural painted on the side of a building. It was a geometric pattern, triangles of various, warm colors scattered through a navy blue background. Phil may not understand it all that well, but he can appreciate good art when he sees it. 

Of course, PJ's need for a stop annoyed Phil, but PJ quickly made up for it by asking Phil to stand in front of it, snapping his picture quickly. 

Once they (finally) made it to their hotel, PJ checked them in, suggesting Phil sit on one of the flannel, fabricated chairs in the lobby. 

Gina had booked them separate rooms, though they were right next to each other. PJ handed Phil a key card to his room, "alright, I suggest we set our stuff in, change, then head off so I can finally feed the beast," he says, playfully pinching Phil's cheek. 

Phil rolls his eyes once again with a smile, pulling away from his fingers, "I'm not _that_ bad."

PJ gives him a sympathetic pat on the back, "keep telling yourself that, Philly."

Phil entered his room without another word. He set his suitcase against the large king bed in the center of the room, and flopped down on the mattress, letting out a big _twamp_ followed by a groan. 

He's so tired. 

The train departed at 8:00 in the morning, leaving Phil to get up at the ass crack of dawn, finish packing (of course he waited until the last minute), water his plants, walk to PJ's flat (a few blocks away), then trek their tired feet to the Manchester train station. 

All before 8 am. 

It's been a hell of a morning.

Phil reluctantly raises from the metaphorical cloud he had been laying on, making his way to his suitcase. He picks it up, and lays it on the bed where he had laid before, unzipping to grab some clothes and toiletries. 

He can't be bothered to take a shower, so he sprays probably too much deodorant on, brushes his teeth quickly, and changes into a button-up denim shirt and clean black jeans. He checks the mirror, straightens his quiff, grabs his bag from the chair in the room, and heads to PJ's room next door. 

He raises his fist to the door to knock, before PJ opens it before him.

"Oh good, you're ready." PJ says, stepping out of his room with a smug smile on his face, "I thought I was going to have to pry you from your bed." 

"I was this close to passing out in there." Phil admits, trailing behind PJ as they walk towards the elevator. 

Phil spotted a starbucks just down the street from the hotel, and had been going on non-stop about it since. 

"It is like working with a child sometimes," PJ tells him with a head shake, "we'll get you coffee don't worry."

Phil gives him a bright smile, hugging him from the side tightly, "thanks mum! I promise I'll be good!" He says in a mocking tone once they're out of the elevator. 

They exit the hotel, and walk the rest of the way to the coffee shop in silence, Phil clutching the strap of his bag tightly. 

When they reach the establishment, they can already tell how busy it is. Almost every seat is taken and the line is a bit long. It is almost noon, which is the time for lunch, so the busyness should be expected.

"Dibs on not standing in line." Phil says quickly. 

PJ gives him an annoyed glance, "fine. You owe me." PJ grabs his wallet from his back pocket, pulling out a few notes, "Caramel macchiato?" 

"Yes! And a bagel please."

PJ nods and heads towards the line. "You're the bestest friend ever!" Phil shouts to him. PJ doesn't respond.

Phil takes a seat at the frist open seat he could find, not really caring if anyone was at the same table.

"Ahem." He hears someone clear their throat behind him.

Phil snaps his head forward, sitting in the chair correctly now, only to be met with a pair of brown eyes peeking from behind a laptop screen, one eyebrow raised at a high arch. 

He feels the mixture of embarassment and guilt wave over him as he sputters, "Oh s-sorry. Didn't realize anyone was sitting here. I-It's just so busy in here and I took the first seat I could find while my friend," he motions towards PJ who hasn't moved from his spot on line, "orders us coffee but I can move if you wa-" 

"Mate," the voice belonging to the eyes cuts him off, "calm down. You think too much." The man closes his laptop lid slightly, letting Phil get a look at his entire face. It's at this moment, Phil takes a breath, as he's pretty sure he's just seen one of (if not _the_) most beautiful man in the world. 

Phil hasn't responded yet, so the man does the honors for him, "I was just gonna tell you that you have some toothpaste on your lip." He says, using his own finger to gesture around the corner of his lips, presumably where Phil's toothpaste is. 

"O-oh." Phil finally mutters, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, "thanks." 

PJ just let him walk around like that? Dick.

"No problem." He says with a slight smile, opening his screen back up, continuing to type at whatever he was before the interaction. 

Phil can't see his face anymore, but he tries to recollect the memory of it.. The brown curls, the freckled cheeks, the cute little smile, it was too much. 

He looks about Phil's age, maybe younger. He’s definitely preoccupied in whatever he was doing. Maybe it's work. Maybe he's doing something for University. Or maybe he's a big-head business man sending out an email to his job to fire someone.

He giggles to himself at the thought, before another, more serious, thought comes to mind. He perks up quickly.

"How old are you?"

The man behind the screen peeks up again, a look of confusion intakes his eyes,"...me?"

"Yes."

"Why...?" He's definitely creeped out. Phil internally curses at himself. He's never been the best people person.

"Sorry, guess I should have established. I'm Phil Lester, journalist for Beyond Media, and I'm doing a story on youth in London, and why it's becoming such a growing city. You seem like the perfect subject for this type of thing, and I was just curious to make sure you aren't a 50 year old man with some magical ways to make you look young and flawless." Phil blurts out without taking a breath. He inhales a sharp breath to make another bold statement, “and if you do happen to not be 50, I’d love to interview you for my article.” He says, radiating a confident smile. Well, he thinks it’s confident. He could just look highly uncomfortable to the other man, he wouldn’t be surprised. 

The man just lets out a giggle, letting out a bigger smile than earlier. He has a dimple. It’s absolutely adorable, Phil concludes. He fully closes his laptop, which allows Phil to take in more of him. He's got a long neck. That's one of the first things he notices. He's also wearing a black button up shirt with a black tie. But Phil can only see the collar area. "Uh, okay. No, I'm twenty-four actually. And as for your interview," he pauses, presumably to think for a moment, then shrugs, "sure, why the hell not."

Phil's grin also widens, "great!" He's just about to ask for his email, before PJ steps in, handing Phil his coffee and bag of food, which Phil accept graciously.

"Phil, I thought we talked about not imposing on people's personal bubble." PJ says shooting a glance between Phil and the person sitting across from him. 

"I-"

"Oh no, don't worry." The curly haired boy says standing up,"my lunch break is nearly over anyways. I should really be heading back to work." He begins gathering his things into a black, glittery backpack, Japanese embroidery stitched in, "the seats all yours, mate." He finishes, looking towards PJ.

"Uh, thanks." PJ says wearily, slowly taking his place in the seat across from Phil.

Curly boy shifts over, standing next to the seated Phil. _Jesus, he's tall_ Phil thinks to himself, looking up to him. He reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and hands Phil a small black card, "Let me know about the interview. I'd love to hear from you," He says with a quick smile, before darting off out of the restaurant. 

Phil looks down at the card, reading it carefully. 

**Daniel Howell**

**Attorney at law**

Underneath his name, there's several forms of contact. Phil quickly pockets the card, making eye contact with PJ for the first time since he's sat down.

"So," PJ begins, sipping his coffee, "wanna tell me what the hell that was about."

Phil shrugs, peeling his Bagel from the bag it came in, taking his first bite. "Just asking for an interview. Doing my job."

PJ rolls his eyes, "If that's what you call flirting with cute boys at the Starbucks, sure."

Phil doesn't respond, continuing to shyly eat his bagel and sip his coffee. They don't talk for the rest of lunch.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of their first day in London running around. They converse about what Phil could write about and what pictures PJ could take that could easily match up with Phil's article.

This conversation lasts an entire 10 minutes before they go off acting like fools around town, as expected. 

They went around all the classic touristy places. Phil tried not to enjoy them too much, but he couldn't help himself. He was with his best friend, in a city he despised, making brand new memories. Better ones.

What more could he want? 

After their long (and extremely tiring) day, they found themselves at a restaurant for dinner, decided to treat themselves to their first night in London. 

They ordered a bottle of wine to split between the two of them to go with their dinner. Once the waiter poured their first glass, PJ finally asks the question that Phil could feel was burning inside him all day. 

"So, Phil, may I asked what happened between you and mystery man in the Starbucks earlier this afternoon?" He asks, staring down the rim of his wine glass.

Phil rolls his eyes with a small smile, taking a sip of the wine, "I asked him for an interview. He seemed like the perfect candidate for my article and I thought I could use him. That's it. I told you this already, didn’t I?”

PJ quirks a brow in disbelief, ignoring the last question, "and it had nothing to do with the fact that he just happened to be incredibly attractive?" 

Phil is silent for a moment. He stares down into the seemingly never-ending abyss of crimson liquid in his glass. He's certain his cheeks have flushed to the same color. He wishes he could just crawl in the glass and drown himself in this exact moment. 

Another second or two passes before Phil says, "not... completely, no," and downs the rest of his glass. 

PJ lets out a pretentious chuckle. He leans back in his chair and flashes him a glare. A glare that says '_I know you too well, don't try me_.' 

Phil reciprocates the look by arching an eyebrow, "What?"

PJ doesn't respond. He takes another sip, not dropping the look.

"What?" He asks in a bit of a louder tone. 

So what if Phil asked Daniel for his permission to be interviewed because he thought he was cute? He thought he was really cute, and Phil loves using his profession of choice as a perfectly valid excuse to talk to interesting people. Plus, he's on the market, and it's not like he would have grown the balls to ask had it been any other situation. 

What's it to PJ what Phil does with the people he meets in coffee shops?

"I'm proud of you, Phil," PJ finally says. 

"Huh?"

"You're getting braver by the day. Letting Dallas completely-"

"You said the D-word!" 

PJ scoffs in annoyance, continuing his thought, "You're slowly letting 'He Who Shall Not Be Named' out of your life. It's taken you almost two months, but I'm still impressed." He admits with an impressed nod.

Phil feels his cheeks tint up a bit more at what PJ said, "L-look, yeah I'm definitely not thinking about... him anymore, but that doesn't necessarily mean this will actually turn in to something. I could never see Daniel again after the interview."

"But, let me ask you, would you have done what you did two weeks ago." 

Phil thinks about his answer before sputtering it out, "no, I-I guess not." It's true, he wouldn't have. He's feel too nervous, too fragile to even look at someone attractive, let alone ask to conduct a (strictly professional) interview. 

Maybe his friend is right. Maybe he is slowly making progress about himself without even realizing.

*

Phil contemplates hard that night. Whether it's too early to email Daniel and ask about the interview he discussed. Maybe Daniel had forgotten, or maybe it was just a fake business card to shut him up. He did leave rather quickly. 

Hell, maybe Daniel isn't really his name, and maybe he's not a lawyer. 

All of these thoughts litter around in Phil's head while he's brushing his teeth. They swarm through as if they're bees following their queen to a new batch of honey. It's almost like he can feel the violent, grey cloud hover around his head.

Just as he spits his toothpaste flooded saliva in the sink, his phone pings on the counter underneath him. 

He rinses and dries his mouth before finally checking the notification. 

**PJ Ligouri  
**Don't overthink it. Remember, it's strictly business.

Phil tilts his head in confusion. Isn't PJ the one that was egging him on to try and make it more? If he was lucky-

Another ping.

**PJ Ligouri**  
... for now.

There's the PJ Phil knows.

**Phil Lester**  
I'll do it momentarily. 

**PJ Ligouri**  
I can feel the tension from next door. If you don't do it now, you'll probably never rack up the courage. 

As much as he hates to admit it, PJ is right. Damn him.

Phil tosses his phone on his bed with a sigh. He plants himself on the right side, next to where his laptop is charging on the end table. 

He stares at the sticker infested device and finally manages to pick it up, resting it on his lap. He opens the lid and gulps. He's done this several times in the past two and a half years. So why should this be any different?

He takes a deep breath before opening his gmail, making sure it's open to his business email rather than his personal one (PhillyL@gmail just doesn't seem professional in the business world as PhilipMLester@gmail for some reason), and hits the big, red, **COMPOSE** button.

**Philip Lester to Daniel Howell**

_Hello, Mr. Howell! _

_Daniel, is it? I'm not sure if you remember me, but we met in the Starbucks earlier this afternoon and discussed an possible interview? _

_If you are still up for the opportunity I would love to hear from you soon! I'm only in London for the week so any time between tomorrow and next Friday evening would be completely acceptable. _

_Please let me know!_

_Philip Lester  
_ _Beyond Media_

Phil's not sure whether it's the wine in his system or the sudden boost of confidence given to him by PJ at dinner that makes him bit send without even reading over his message. He regrets this decision instantly as he's definite there was more than one typo present.

He rakes his nimble fingers through his hair, and groans once he catches sight of the time.

01:17. No professional would be up this late. What was he thinking? He definitely seems like a crazy- 

_Ping._

Phil swallows nervously as he looks at his inbox. A blue dot sits next to the bold letters reading **Daniel Howell**, as it rests atop all of Phil's other stacks of unread emails. 

Phil waits another 3 seconds longer, before clicking the message without any hesitation.

**Daniel Howell to Philip Lester**

_hey hey philly (hope that nickname is acceptable)_

_also, please for the love of god, call me dan. only my parents and and people in the office call me daniel. the whole professionalism is disgusting, and i hope you can allow our interactions to remain strictly casual_

_and, to answer your question, yes i remember you. it's not often i get guys sat in front of me at starbucks asking if i'm 50 in disguise. i'd love to still have an interview. i'm free throughout the weekend, and anytime during the week after 6, maybe later depending on hw much work i get piled on me (idc about that thogh lmao)_

_just let me know and i can definitely work you around my schedule_

_thanks_

_-dan_

Jesus this guy talks, is one of the first of many things that goes through his head after reading his email. The lack of professionalism is such an alien concept to Phil. Every email he's sent that has been work related is just strictly business. 

Maybe this isn't that.

Phil shakes his head at such a thought. Certainly not, he's just a really casual guy. That's it. 

He composes his next email,

**Philip Lester to Daniel Howell**

_Aha, I understand. I think?_

_Okay! How about we schedule for sometime tomorrow? Get it done and over with ASAP!_

_You can email me a time and place and I'll be there. _

_Philip Lester_   
_Beyond Media_

This time, Phil rereads his message and fixes any typos and grammatical errors before sending. 

It isn't long before he receives another message. 

**Daniel Howell to Philip Lester**

_my god loosen your britches_

_how about my flat? thats where i can usually be found most weekends anyways. and it has to be sometime after noon. i can't be arsed to actually be awake at that time_

_also if i just give you my number will you stop messaging me like i'm the pope?_

_Daniel Howell_   
_Shitty lawyer at some shitty law company_

At the bottom of the email, underneath Dan's mocking signature, is the address Phil presumes belongs to Dan, and a phone number. 

This is all so strange to Phil. He always conducts his interviews in settings such as offices, or parks, or even on the phone most of the time, as they usually never have time to actually see him in person.

But, he has never been to anyone's house for an interview. It just seems so... _invasive_.

Phil rereads that last part, about Dan being a shitty lawyer for a shitty law firm. He knows he was making fun of Phil's signature that he adds at the end of all his emails, but he finds it more endearing rather than offensive. Hell, it's actually kind of funny.

And to be fair, Phil can't exactly be blamed for his professionalism. He's just doing his bloody job for Christs sake. 

Phil doesn't respond to the email. He just closes his laptop and instead, grabs his phone that's resting on the side of his foot. He punches in the number and shoots a quick text.

**Phil Lester**  
Okay! I will see you at around 1:30, thank you for your time!

*

As much as Phil would have liked to sleep in on his first Saturday, he knows he's technically on business and that work comes first. So, he wakes up a bit earlier that morning and gets ready. 

He showers quickly, orders room service breakfast, washes his face and brushes his teeth, puts his contacts in and makes him self look moderately presentable wearing a black button-up corgi shirt, black jeans, and his favorite pair of vans. All of this, just to plop himself down at the hotel desk in front of his computer.

He checks the time, it's only 9 am, he's got plenty of time.

His breakfast arrives shortly after it's ordered, so he eats it while he works. He's got about three hours to think of questions that could easily be relevant to the topic at hand. He almost asks PJ to come, given he needs the photographer to take pictures of the interviewee, but he already feels slightly awkward and uncomfortable going to a strange man's house in a strange town he doesn't know. So, he decides to leave it. Maybe Dan's face doesn't _have_ to be in the paper. 

He could have left himself to write questions down to the night before, but their scheduled interview had happened very last minute, and Phil already had such a long night, that he was craving the idea of sleep by 10 pm. Of course, being the night owl he is, he didn't get to sleep until around 2 am.

He truly is a genius when it comes to his physical health. 

Time seems to pass in a snap, and after a fruit parfait and 2 and a half (almost 3) cups of instant coffee later, Phil sees it's noon and he has his questions and other interview materials ready. 

He inputs the address Dan gave him in his phone as he walks the streets of London, music through his headphones wondering exactly hoe this afternoon is going to go. 

He wasn't exactly sure what to expect. It's just an interview after all. He'll see Dan Howell the one time, put him in the paper, and never speak to him again. 

That's how it always goes. 

It takes him a good 45 minutes to navigate the city by foot, plus adding the unfamiliarity of the city. 

The city is just as stressful as he'd imagine, if not more. He can hear the loud chatter of the people passing by him, the cars driving too fast and beeping, sirens blaring through the noise. It's extremely frustrating. 

Sure, Manchester isn't all that different, but maybe Phil has a little bit of a bias hatred. Maybe. Just a little bit.

Once he finally reaches the flat Dan sends him to, it's 1:23. Just in the nick of time. He tries his hardest to find the elevators, and find his way through the building.

The good thing is, it isn't that hard. 

He finds apartment number 497, which he presumes is Dan's. Unless the strange man sent him on a wild goose chase. 

Phil stands in front of the door, and looks at the time on his apple watch. It goes from 1:29 to 1:30 as soon as he clicks it on. 

He takes a breath, straightens his collar, and knocks on the door. 

A few seconds - maybe even a minute - pass by the time there's an open door in front of him.

Dan stands in front of him, eyes widening in surprise quickly.

Clearly, Dan was not ready. 

His hair is tousled and a lot more curl than Phil remembers it yesterday. He's wearing a black t-shirt and, what seems to be, Game Of Thrones pajama pants. He's also holding a toothbrush in his left hand, that is also residing in his mouth.

"Shit," he mutters, toothbrush still in mouth. 

Phil just looks at him, feeling the second-hand embarrassment kick in, "sh-should I come back-"

"No, no!", Dan takes the toothbrush out of his mouth, "you're early," He claims through a frothy mouth of toothpaste. He shakes his head nervously and motions Phil in his flat, "come in."

Phil can't help but chuckle at his response as he steps in through the doorway, "actually, I said I'd be here at 1:30, and it is-", he checks his watch, "1:31."

Dan's face turns to a look of shock, "you've got to be shitting-", he pauses and looks at a wall clock placed above a dining table, "ah, I'm real sorry. Give me a moment." Dan walks down a hallway at the end of the room, as Phil awkwardly stands in the same place he was before, glancing around the room, clutching the strap of his bag with a death grip. 

Dan's flat is small. Nice, but small. Open plan living and dining room with a half-wall separating the kitchen and living space. There's a hall, the same one Dan walks down , with two doors on either side, and one at the back wall of the end. Phil turns around to face the other side. He sees the rest of the lounge. A white piano sits in the corner, and two glass doors, that are covered up by curtains. Phil assumes they lead out to a balcony of sorts.

He's admiring the apartment, when Dan comes back out. His face is flushed red, and his mouth is empty of toothpaste. He is still wearing his pajamas though. "S-sorry about that. Sit down, please." He insists, motioning towards the dining table. 

Phil shrugs and shuffles his way over to the table. It's long and white. The six rainbow different colored dining chairs add the perfect splash of color to the otherwise monochrome apartment. Phil takes a seat at the blue one at the head of the table, setting his bag on the table. 

"Would you like some tea or something?" Dan calls from the kitchen.

Phil is pulling a journal and a pen out from his bag when he responds, "uh sure, if you're offering." 

Dan returns momentarily, two mugs in hand, placing one in front of Phil. It has a _Jurassic Park_ design from universal studios on it. This makes Phil smile. Taste, he thinks to himself.

Dan sits down in the grey chair next to Phil, taking a sip of his Jake from Adventure Time mug. 

Phil laughs out loud this time. Dan looks to in in, understandable, confusion, "what?"

Phil pulls out the lanyard with his keys and ID on it, and dangles it in front of Dan's face, "You and I have the same taste in television and movies." 

Dan examines the lanyard with a quick glance and returns the smile, "well it's a good thing we have damn good taste then." 

Phil goes to put his keys back before Dan stops him, "your ID picture. You're not smiling. And your hair looks different," Dan notes, "and you're wearing glasses. Are you sure you didn't just steal someones press badge as an excuse to talk to me?" Dan gives him a wide smile, one that radiates extreme confidence. This makes Phil jealous. He wished he could have that kind of confidence, the kind that allows you to flirt with someone you just met without cringing at yourself with every word you spew.

Phil feels his face turn red as he nervously chuckles. "ah, that was taken like three years ago. I didn't know they were taking the picture. And f-for the glasses, I usually just wear contacts. Of course, my first day of work, I woke up late and didn't have time to put them in," Phil explains. He didn't need to. Hell, Dan probably doesn't give a shit about any of that.

Dan just nods, taking another sip of tea, "interesting. You look like 2005 Pete Wentz." That's all he says. "Well," Phil responds, "that's exactly the look I was going for."

There's a few moments of silence, it makes Phil feel awkward. But, then again, when does he not feel awkward?

"So," Dan speaks up, "how is this gonna work?" He asks, hands motioning towards the pad of paper with questions already scribbled down. 

"Oh-oh, right." Phil sits up, straightening himself out, "I'm just gonna ask you some questions that I'll put in the paper. That's usually how this goes."

"Cool. I've never been interviewed before." 

"Not even for your job?"

Dan shakes his head, "Nope. As soon as I got out of high school I went to uni, got a law degree, and automatically got myself a job at my dad's law office." He says this all with a shrug, tracing the rim of his mug.

Phil listens and nods in understanding, "interesting." He crosses out a question he wrote last night, _'How hard was it to find a job in London?' _Guess that won't be relevant to the topic at hand. "I also need to record the interview, with your permission of course." 

Dan shrugs again, "Fine with me, mate."

Phil smiles in return, "great."

Phil presses the record button on his audio memo app on his phone. "So, Dan," he begins, "what made you choose to live in London?"

"Oh it wasn't a choice, really. I was born here, raised here, probably die here." 

Phil stops writing his notes as he hears the words. That turned grim quick. 

"uh huh, and what do you like about it here?"

"Oh, I hate it here."

Phil looks up from his paper and looks at Dan. He _hates_ living here. Yet another thing they have in common. 

"There' so many times I wish I could pack my shit-" Phil will edit that part out - "and leave."

Phil skips over his next question. This is totally not the direction he was expecting the interview to go. He asks an impromptu question, "so why don't you?"

Dan scoffs, "I thought this was supposed to be about London being a growing city?"

Phil slowly nods in response, "... originally, yes, but I'm much more interested in this side of things." Phil admits, running his hands over the papeer, smoothing the creases.

Dan responds with a raised eyebrow, "I've got everything I need here. Job that pays well, parents that don't _totally_ hate me, nice place I can afford." He takes a pause and shrugs, "may not be too happy, but I'm surviving, right?"

"But... don't you think you could have so much more? You're so young. Do something you want to do. Make your life happy."

Dan rolls his eyes and bites his lip, "that's exactly what everyone else says. But the thing is Phil... don't think I could exactly do that."

"Well, why not?"

Dan shoots him a glare, "if I do decide to go 'live my potential' elsewhere, somewhere I'll be happy, which is definitely not here, then if it failed, I wouldn't be able to come back. My dad made that pretty clear."

Phil has completely set his notebook aside, he doesn't care about the interview anymore. He just wants to learn more about the boy sitting in front of him. 

"So, you hate being a lawyer?"

"Every god damn bit of it. The only reason I studied it is because it's all I fucking knew. My dad had it engraved in my brain from a young age that I was going to be a lawyer at his firm. From the earliest days I can remember, that's all I knew what my future was. If I quit now, I have no idea what else I could do."

Phil swallows thickly. Christ this is a lot to take in.

"So, you hate London, living here basically by force, working a job you hate, and you're unhappy," Phil reiterates, "and you're just totally okay with that?"

Dan shrugs again, "don't really have any other choice, do I?"

There's a silence between them for a moment before Phil clears his throat, "so... that answers basically all my questions about work like. What's the social scene like around here?"

Dan looks down, shaking his head, "couldn't tell you. Don't really have a lot of friends."

It is then that Phil decides, he got the single worst interviewee for this story.

"s-sorry, probably not the answer you wanted. I knew I wasn't a good candidate for this thing."

"So then why'd you accept my offer?" Phil asks, but there is not a single hint of sourness to his voice. It seems like a genuine question. He should be mad. He should be annoyed for having his time wasted like this. 

But then again, he's not. Not inconvenienced in the slightest. 

"I guess my life just seems so boring. I've put myself in this routine i follow day after day. Something new showed up when you asked if I wanted an interview, so I just took it and didn't think about it. I'm sorry."

Phil shakes his head, "no, no. I don't mind really."

Dan gives a half smile. "To continue your question, my social life is dull. I have about two friends- Isabelle and Tyler. I go out with them every other weekend, get hammered off my ass, wake up hungover and continue living my life."

Phil lets out a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood, "sounds exciting. More exciting than my weekends. I normally sit on the couch alone watching anime." 

Dan nods, "sounds terribly exciting." They share a laugh and look down to their laps. 

"So yeah, work life is shit. Social life is shit. Love life is real shit. I spend too much time working trying to perfect my awful career. Barely have time to socialize with my two friends, let alone find a decent guy to spend the rest of my lame life with."

Phil tilts his head at the noun of choice. So he likes guys. Only likes guys for that matter.

Yet another thing they have in common. 

"Oh-oh... so you're-"

"Yeah, I'm gay. And if you have a problem with that then we can wrap this up right now and you can be well on your way." Dan says, his voice turns out more stern than before as he points his finger towards the door.

"Oh no, no, no. Don't worry. I... I understand."

The boy sat next to him somewhat smiles at him, "I see."

Dan turns to the phone that's resting between them, "don't put that in the paper, please. My personal life is off-limits."

Phil looks up from the paper he somehow restored (he honestly doesn't remember that happening), and nods toward Dan, writing that note down in his journal.

"To the internet, I mean. You I don't care about. I already told you so." Dan clarifies. Phil nods again.

"Well, Dan, I think that concludes the interview. I've run out of questions and have a good lot of information." He says as he stops recording on his phone and closes his notebook.

"Wait-" Dan says before Phil can stand up. 

"Yeah?"

"Do... do you think I can ask you some questions?"

Phil gives him a puzzled expression, "uhh..."

"I mean, change it up a little. You ask people questions all the time, right? You never get them in return."

"To be completely honest, I don't like the pressure of questions. I almost peed myself three times at my first interview.

Phil cringes at himself. Why did he say that? That was completely too much information.

Dan just laughs at this comment, but not in a teasing way, nor a pitiful way. A genuine laugh that, once again, brings a smile to Phil's face.

"So, what made you want to be a reporter?" Is Dan's first question.

Phil gulps and freezes. He didn't realize this would be the first question. He can't say the actual reason, that's a part of his life he just doesn't tell just anyone. 

He could tell the original lie that he's told everyone. PJ, his ex, even his mum. ‘I like what the people on TV do. Except I don’t want to be on camera’. It was always his go-to answer. And it works, so he stuck with it.

But, he decides in a split second that he wants to keep Dan on his toes. Keep him interested in Phil.

"First of all, I'm a journalist, not a reporter."

"What's the difference?" 

"Reporters write stories just based in the news media. Journalists is more of a broad term. I don't work in the news."

Dan nods slowly, as if he only kinda understands. 

"So, where are you from? I take it you're obviously not from around here, yeah?"

"Ah, nope. Manchester." Phil says with a prideful smile.

"Ha, nice. I went to university there." Dan chuckles. "You?"

"York. Did you study law at Manchester?"

"Yes."

"You know, Cambridge is said to be the best university for law."

Dan raises a brow in question, "oh really?"

"Yup. I did a whole article on it," Phil beams with pride, "one of my best works I must say."

Dan holds up his hands, "alright mate, calm down. No need to get cocky."

Phil suggestively furrows his brows, regretting it instantly. Dan, however, responds with a blush hinting at his cheeks, making Phil smile slightly breaking the seductive act. 

They talk for a little while longer, exchanging university stories, weird (but fun) facts about each other, and even debating their favorite American Horror Story seasons.

They've only been sat there for a little while, and barely know each other. But, for some reason, it feels so natural. Nothing strange about it at all. As if they've known each other for years. Maybe in a past life, Phil thinks. 

"So," Phil begins, "you're telling me that you burnt pasta because you didn't know you had to put water in it...?" 

Dan looks at his lap, a small smile threatening his lips, and nods in shame.

Phil brings up his hands, and lets out a slow clap, "wow. Genius Dan Howell."

Dan rolls his eyes, "fuck off. At least I didn't break my hand during a drunk piggy-back race."

They laugh at their misfortunes for a bit, but when it dies down, Dan speaks up again.

"Who was the man you were with yesterday?" Dan asks leaning back in his chair, changing the subject completely.

"Ah, that's PJ. He's my photographer, and best friend." Phil explains as his phone and watch buzz, indicating a text.

"Speak of the devil," Phil says with a laugh, seeing a text from PJ.

**PJ Ligouri**  
idk where you are and i'm hungry. meet me at the sushi place by our hotel for dinner thanks.

Phil checks the time. 6:30 already. 

Jesus he'd been sat here with Dan for about five hours.

Had it really been that long?

Phil wants to take up PJ's sushi offer (he feels himself getting a bit hungry as well), but he also finds himself not wanting to leave Dan. Not just yet.

So, he does something crazy

"Would you like to come to dinner with me and PJ? We're thinking about getting sushi."

Dan looks surprised, "re-really?"

Phil shrugs, "yeah, you did say you don't have a lot of friends. Why not make two more?" He asks with a kind smile. 

Dan gives a small smile, like he'd just been offered a million pounds, "yeah... yeah okay." He looks down to his apparel. Still in his pajamas, "er, let me change real quick."

Dan stands up and heads to the hallway that he had been to earlier.

"Great." Phil says, but the room is dead empty by now. 

He sends PJ a quick text, informing him of the plan. PJ agrees wholeheartedly, saying he's 'already tired of Phil.'

Phil waits patiently for Dan. Normally, by this time, his interviews are good and done. No dinner offers, no counter questions, not another word.

But Phil isn't gonna let Dan Howell slip away that easily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus this chapter was long.  
oh well! hope you enjoy  
~J xx


	4. Chapter 4

Dinner that night with PJ and Dan was not at all how he expected the rest of the night to go.

Then again, what is he supposed to expect from a social event with his best friend, and acquaintance he's only known a mere 24 hours?

Phil and Dan make their way to the sushi place PJ had mentioned. Phil recognizes it, as they noticed it on their first night, claiming they just had to eat there at least once on their trip. 

Dan comments how he came here one time. A date he had about 3 months ago. "He was very bland. Dry conversationalist," he mentions with a cringe.

They decide to walk to the destination, as the tube is definitely going to be more crowded than usual on a Saturday night.

"You never answered my question." Dan says while they walk side by side. Dan has his hands in his pockets and is looking at his shoes. Phil is also looking at the ground, but his hands are gripped around his bag strap, as they usually are.

Phil turns his head towards Dan and tilts it, "what question?"

This is a dumb retort. Phil knows exactly what he's talking about, he would just like to avoid the subject at all costs.

"Why did you want to be a journalist?" Dan asks emphasizing the title of Phil's career, with a mocking tone.

Phil just rolls his eyes and gives a small smile, no longer looking at Dan. He could use his normal excuse. It would make the conversation easy and over with. 

But maybe, Phil doesn't want that. Maybe Phil wants to keep Dan guessing about him, leave a bit of a mysterious undertone.

He's never done that to anyone. So why did it matter?

All Phil can say is, "mmm I don't think I'm ready to share that bit of my life just yet."

Dan cocks a brow, "oh yeah? why's that?"

Phil shrugs with a slight smirk, flashing it towards Dan, "maybe I just wanna keep you o your toes, Danny."

Dan doesn't respond. He instead turns his eyes back to the ground flushing a deep red as they keep walking. It sounds like he muttered something of an 'oh'.

They walk in silence for a few minutes longer, before Dan sparks up the conversation again. "You said you like anime, what kind do you like?"

Phil turns and looks at Dan and smiles. Yet another common interest between the two. "Well, I do like _Sword Art Online_, _Death Note_ is a classic, and I'm currently watching _Your Lie In April_", he explains feeling himself getting a little too into it. "S-sorry. I could talk about anime for hours."

Dan looks back over to him, a confused expression coats his face, "First of all, never apologize for talking about something you're passionate about." He says this bluntly, smiling towards Phil, "and second of all, you have taste. I'm currently watching _Death Note_. I can usually only watch about an episode per day on my lunch break."

Phil's face definitely lights up with a smile. He's never had anyone else to talk about this with besides PJ, but they usually try to watch the same ones at the same time, if he doesn't catch up ahead of him with Sophie. 

They continue their in-depth anime conversation the rest of the journey, debating certain theories, recommendations they had for each other, everything of the sorts. Phil told Dan to avoid the live action remake of _Death Note_ at all costs once he finishes, and Dan even told Phil about the beautiful world of Studio Ghibli.

They almost walk past their original destination.

When they walk in, Phil immediately spots PJ in a booth against a corner, scanning the menu with his chin resting in his palm.

Phil leads them to the table, where PJ smiles at the two, closing his menu and setting it down, "I was wondering if you two had forgotten about me."

Phil just laughs as he slides in across from PJ, Dan swiftly moving next to him. "I could never forget about you, Peej. No matter how hard I try."

PJ rolls his eyes and scoffs, turning his attention towards the other boy on Phil's right side, "Hello. Daniel, is it?" PJ holds his hand out, a bright smile stretches his lips, "I'm PJ. I don't think we've been properly introduced."

"Uh it's just Dan actually. I don't like being called Daniel outside of my home and office," Dan explains, shaking PJ's hand, "Nice to meet you, PJ."

PJ nods, "interesting."

Dan and Phil take a moment to look at the array of options before ordering once the waitress approaches.

"So, how do you two know each other? Phil told me you work together but is that it? Or is there an intensely juicy backstory?" Dan asks enthusiastically, flicking his glance towards the other two men. 

"Oh, hardly," PJ scoffs, shaking his head, "I was transferred from Brighton and assigned to Phil-"

" 'assigned' that makes you sound like a cool secret agent or something." Phil interrupts.

"Can you not be rude for a moment Phil?" PJ asks.

"Yeah, Phil. I was enjoying PJ's story." 

Phil raises an eyebrow at Dan, as PJ keeps talking, "I got reassigned to Manchester about two and a half years ago, Phil was my partner, and I've been stuck with him since." PJ says this in a joking tone, but he can't help but wonder if he's ever regret transferring like that. It's not really anything they ever discussed.

As if Dan can hear Phil's thoughts, he asks, "do you regret leaving?" His hands are now folded, he's resting his chin on top of them, eyes boring into PJ. He looks so interested in what PJ is about to say. He imagines it's the same look he was giving Phil when he was being drilled with questions by the other boy. His heart sinks at the thought. Maybe he wasn't as special as he hoped. 

"Oh no, not at all," PJ says as Phil rejoins the conversation, "I met Sophie, my girlfriend, here. I'm also working a job I love. Even met the coolest guy ever." He spares a charming smirk towards Phil, who blushes in response, and can't help but let out a giddy smile. 

"I mean," PJ continues, "sure I was absolutely petrified when I got the offer, but sometimes," he shrugs, "that's a leap of faith you have to take." 

Phil and Dan both smile at PJ's wondrous words of wisdom, when the waitress comes and interrupts them, setting their food down on the table.

~

Phil and PJ walked the very short distance back to their hotel. Phil insisted on walking Dan back to his place, but Dan persuaded him otherwise saying "it's not safe to walk around an unfamiliar town on your own." 

He wasn't wrong, and frankly, Phil knew it was the most logical option, but he couldn't help but silently beg for another stolen moment with the cute, London stranger. 

They spent the entire afternoon and evening together, yet Phil still feels like it wasn't enough. He still has so much he wants to know about Dan. What are his friends like? What other common interests do they have? What's his type when it comes to boys?

Phil's smiling to himself as he looks down to the concrete, his footsteps falling in line with PJ's as they walk in silence back to the hotel. 

"What are you so smiley about?" PJ asks in a teasing tone, sightly nudging Phil's side with his elbow.

Phil quickly snaps an embarrassed look at PJ, "what?" 

PJ rolls his eyes, "you're so cute. How did the interview go, I never got to ask."

"It was..." Phil tries to find the right word, "interesting."

PJ seems curious, turning his head to the side to meet Phil's eyes, "oh yeah?"

"He was, to put it nicely, not really fit for the topic at hand." Phil says with a small sigh. He'd been putting it off that he'll have to do some extra hard work on this story, and maybe even find another interviewee. 

"So, what're you gonna do?" PJ asks, genuine concern in his voice.

Phil scoffs, "I have no idea." 

They're quiet for a minute, walking into the lobby of their hotel, swiftly making their way to the elevators.

"All I know is," Phil continues as the elevator door close in front of them, taking PJ by surprise, "I want to see him again."

~

The only sound Phil can hear in the night is the loud hum of his air conditioner. It's so fucking loud, he thinks to himself. He's only been here two nights, but he's already aching to get out.

Not only is it loud, but it's really, really cold. At least it's doing it's job though. Even if Phil has to cocoon himself in the single blanket. 

He sighs and turns to his side, checking his phone. No notifications, as expected. 

He frowns, as the screen fades to black and all he can see is his sad face reflected in the black mirror before him. 

Pathetic. 

He clicks the button on his phone again, this time to check the time. 2:21 AM. 

Nothing good happens after 2 am. That's something he's always told himself. He heard it from a TV show or something. He holds himself to it, as his next action is evident. 

He opens his Instagram app and immediately types

D

A

L

It's the first suggestion. 

Phil bites his lip, staring at the narrow strip with Dallas's username, and small circular profile picture to the far left. His thumb hovers over the name, before he inevitably clicks it. 

Nothing good ever happens after 2 am. 

A new picture has been posted since Phil last checked, which was two days ago. 

Phil clicks on the picture. He's on some Scottish mountains. He must be visiting his parents, Phil thinks. His mothers birthday is coming up. 

This reminds Phil of all the road trips they would take together to Scotland when visiting Dallas's family. Phil remembers them being so sweet, and excited every time the two of them came. Whether it be for a family holiday, or just a weekend to get away, they were always grateful to have them there. And Phil was grateful they liked him enough, and brought him into their home.

Guess he's never going back to Scotland.

It's not like their breakup was terrible, but it wasn't mutual either. Dallas said how Phil spent too much time working, never enough time with him. Phil shakes his head, not wanting to relive the memory again.

This usually happens whenever he's wallowing in another sleepless night. He mopes over his ex, scared he'll never find anyone else to fill that hole in his heart.

It's happened a lot within the past month and a half. He should be used to it by now.

Phil turns his attention back to picture he was looking at. Dallas got a hair cut since his last picture, he notes. It's still fluffy, and sticks out everywhere, but it doesn't go past his ears anymore. 

He always loved Dallas's hair. Running his hands through it when they would curl up on the couch and watch movies. Or in the back of the car when they were with friends, when Dallas would lay his head in Phil's lap. Or their more steamy moments in bed-

Phil quickly locks his phone and screws his eyes shut, _definitely_ not wanting to relive those memories. He feels the tears start to sting his eyes, and the burning lump form in his throat. He holds his breath trying so hard to suppress a cry. 

This doesn't last long, as he has to breathe some time. He lets out a loud, shaky breath, slowly opening his eyes. The tears are out of his eyes, but they're still slightly burning with moisture.

Once he feels himself get calm and collected, he opens his phone back up. He examines the picture once again, not wanting to miss a detail. 

He's busy studying the shirt he's wearing, wondering if it's one he owned during the time they were together, when he sees a notification at the top of his screen. 

Who's texting him this late?

**Dan Howell  
**phil are u awake

Phil raises a brow in confusion, before typing out a response, his ex temporarily leaving his mind.

**Phil Lester**  
at 2:45 in the morning? no im totally sleeping like a sane person.

Those three dots at the bottom appear all too quickly after Phil sends the message.

**Dan Howell**  
shit did I wake u sorry

Phil's shocked Dan didn't sense the sarcasm in his text.

**Phil Lester**  
kidding no im awake lmao. whats up?

**Dan Howell**  
oh cool

**Dan Howell**  
i can't sleep. all my friends are sleep. can i send u a cute dog video

Phil wonders why that even needs to be a question. What kind of insane person would refuse a cute dog video from a cute guy texting them at 2 in the morning?

**Phil Lester**  
um,, yes??? that shouldn't even be a question! send me all the dog videos you can

**Dan Howell**  
*attachment one video*

**Dan Howell**  
:)

The video is of a Corgi in a swimming pool, trying its hardest to get on a water raft, but failing and falling back into the water.

Phil laughs a little bit too loudly, and then awes as he watches it a few more times. 

**Phil Lester**  
Corgis are my favorite dogs how did u know

**Dan Howell**  
lucky guess?

**Phil Lester**  
I want a dog :(

**Dan Howell**  
shit me too

**Phil Lester**  
wanna co-parent a dog with me?

Phil winces right after he hits send. That was absolutely a too bold thing to say.

**Dan Howell**  
hmmm depends, what are we naming it?

Phil smiles in relief that Dan wasn't completely weirded out by his weird burst. 

**Phil Lester**  
Norris

**Dan Howell**  
absolutely not

**Phil Lester**  
:(

**Dan Howell**  
i will not allow any dog to be named that

**Phil Lester**  
it was my hamsters name lol

Phil waits a moment for Dan to respond, the three dots appearing and reappearing sporadically. 

Phil starts gnawing on his lip as the dots disappear for the third time. 

A minute passes and they don't appear again. He then decides at that exact moment, that he cannot let the conversation die just yet.

**Phil Lester**  
what're you doing tomorrow?

It's almost as if he can hear the chorus of angels sing as Dan starts typing again.

**Dan Howell**  
uhhh idk i don't have any pressing interviews tomorrow so nothing ig

Phil giggles a little at his response before typing again.

**Phil Lester**  
PJ and I have nothing to do. Do you maybe wanna show us around London? It's been so long since I've been here idk anything about the place

He hopes it's a good enough incentive.

**Dan Howell**  
sure why not.meet me at the Starbucks by your hotel. y'know, the one where you asked me if i was 50 in disguise?

Phil turns red and covers his face with his hands, groaning in regret. 

He snaps out of it and decides to finally respond, before Dan changes his mind.

**Phil Lester**  
Cool. It's a date then.

Phil smiles, finally deciding to put his phone away and maybe try to get some sleep. 

Maybe some good things happen after 2 am.


End file.
